


Mad, Bad, and Dangerous to Know

by foundCarcosa



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-02
Updated: 2011-11-02
Packaged: 2017-10-25 15:39:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foundCarcosa/pseuds/foundCarcosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ludwig's got his own personal prisoner of war, and a fascination that borders on psychosis. Gory psycho-sexual themes. [Written 20 April 2011]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mad, Bad, and Dangerous to Know

_“Just breathe,”_ Bjorn dimly recalled. Panted words from Mikkel just before they were wrenched apart, the clomp of heavy boots drowning out his own hoarse breaths but not the creak and clatter of chains. _“Breathe, and remember me. It’ll be over soon…”_

Bjorn kept his eyes tightly closed, his small frame suspended from two large manacles and his bare toes skimming the concrete below him. It had been hours since the German goons had departed, leaving him without drink or even a way to relieve himself discreetly. His only company was the skittering of vermin and the crash of waves… was he still in his home? Was he in Mikkel’s, in Denmark? Maybe he was in the northern part of Germany, closer to the sea.

What did it matter? The loss of his dignity was complete. He had been conquered with little effort, the formidable _Wehrmacht_ swamping his small, unassuming home like a spider overwhelming a fly.  
 _Neutral._ Bjorn spat. To remain neutral was to be rewarded thusly. Even Berwald, even Mikkel… all of them, effete and the butt of crude jokes told in barking German. No thought to the marauding, heathen Nordics of old; the entities they were before _civilisation_ sneakily brought them to their knees. Not a thought.

The Norwegian’s stomach lurched, and he could have sworn nothing was worse than the feeling he currently experienced.  
He still greatly underestimated the Germans. Or, rather… _the German._

The door swung open with a clatter. It would be a year, perhaps less, when the war’s poison would seep into Ludwig’s flesh; for now, he was broad-shouldered and heavy-handed, blazing blue eyes and the crooked grin of a nation who knew the world would soon be his. …A nation who was properly brainwashed by his _charismatic_ leader.

“ _Norwegen_ ,” he drawled, and Bjorn could have vomited at the sound of his true name on the German’s cruel lips.

“You’ve got what you want.” It was an effort to speak with conviction when he could see the red of muscle in his chest wound and feel the blood trickling down his spine. “Leave me alone…”

A chuckle, brittle around the edges but still inexplicably mirthful, bubbled from Ludwig’s throat as he closed the distance between them, a gloved hand reaching to caress the Norwegian’s hot cheek. When Bjorn attempted to jerk away, the hand closed around his chin and jerked his face towards Ludwig’s.

“You know _nothing_ of my wants.”

Ludwig was used to being spat at. He dodged the projectile easily, chuckling again as he released Bjorn. The grinding of chain was the next insufferable sound to reach Bjorn’s ears; his feet touched the cold floor, followed by his knees. He was now eye-to-eye with the German’s insignia-emblazoned belt buckle.

 _“Just breathe… It’ll be over soon.”_   
_Mikkel, once again, you know nothing…_

“ _Der Führer_ wanted your land and your ports. I couldn’t care less.” Again, the gloved fingers came in contact with Bjorn’s face. His skin shrunk. “I’ve been curious about… conquest of a different sort. But I grow tired of the same methods, you know that? I want to…” He hitched up his trouser legs and crouched, his thumb pressing gently but firmly into the corner of the Norwegian’s eye. Tears sprung immediately in response, but Bjorn held fast. “…I want to _truly_ test the limits of this human form of ours.”

 _“Just breathe.”_

From within the folds of his uniform, Ludwig’s free hand produced a small spoon with a deep bowl. His thumb still prodded at the edges of Bjorn’s eye socket, and his breathing had deepened as if he were concentrating intensely… or feeling _something_ intensely.

“Striking eyes some of you have. Such a shame I might never see Ivan’s this closely… ah, well. Can’t win them all.”

 _“Just breathe…”_

The spoon switched hands, and leather-clad fingers squeezed Bjorn’s jaw tightly. He was not prepared for the cold metal at his lower eyelid, or the sudden and vicious motion with which it _pushed_ in, scooping his eye into the bowl of the spoon. White-hot agony exploded in his temples and spread outward, paralysing his vocal cords and rendering him spineless. If not for the manacles wrenching his arms above his head, he would have collapsed.

“Hmn. That was much easier than I would have expected. Ah, perhaps I can preserve this… if I do it gently, ja?”

 _“Breathe, and remember me…”_

Bjorn didn’t register the unbuckling of Ludwig’s belt, the shifting of coarse fabric as it was pushed out of the way. The heavy sighs as the German palmed himself didn’t reach his ringing ears. He knew the feeling of his precious eye, wet and inexplicably heavy against his pallid and cooling cheek, and as shock flooded his system, that was _all_ he knew.

“Do you see me?” Ludwig chuckled, far too amused than should have been appropriate. The flushed head of his organ circled the empty eye socket almost lovingly, and the flare of new pain that should have accompanied the sensation just… didn’t come.

Who was that? Who was that Bjorn was seeing with two intact eyes, from somewhere near the ceiling…? Himself, of course, and that German, he’d recognise him anywhere — that German, sick sad bastard that he was, pressing forward with his hips while his hands cradled the Norwegian’s head…

He did vomit then, much to Ludwig’s continuing amusement, but by then Bjorn, the true essence of the nation, was long gone.

 _“Just breathe, and remember me. It’ll be over soon… j’elsker deg, Norge! Jeg gør—!”_

Ludwig’s heavy breathing shortened to pants, his eyes glued to his thick organ as its first couple of inches slid in and out of the socket. Of course, he couldn’t go further, and he couldn’t go faster, but oh, this was enough… just to know that he _could_ perform this action was enough. To feel the slick cords of muscle closing around him, the sphincter-like ring of eyelids… it was strikingly similar to another pat of the body. _Just as he’d expected._ And perhaps another time, another way, he’d be able to take this macabre art further…

“ _Norwegen_ , I owe you a great debt,” he grunted as he slowly pulled out, then pushed back in one last time. “A great debt… for this…”

Inarticulate groaning followed these words as his clenched hand pumped the orgasm out of him, its evidence jetting into Bjorn’s ash-blond hair and trickling down his grey cheek. The Norwegian hung silently, blissfully unconscious through the duration of his violation. Ludwig shook his head pityingly. He’d missed the whole thing, but that was all right.

“Let’s put you back together, _ja_? Your _Dänemark_ will be here soon, and I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise…”


End file.
